


Cold

by o_WinterQueen_o



Series: (V: And the Burning Sun Fell to the Frigid Blade) [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: (V: And the Burning Sun Fell to the Frigid Blade), Angst, Betrayal, Cannibalism, Cryophobia, Gen, Gift Fic, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Mostly hurt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Updating tags as I go, inspired by: heavenxpiercing & ivory-insanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_WinterQueen_o/pseuds/o_WinterQueen_o
Summary: "His icy touch is in me,Burned into my skin.His frigid hands are on me,Ready to crush my throat in."-Kari @heavenxpiercing.tumblr.com





	1. 48 Hours Later

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaleAutumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleAutumn/gifts).



> Hey y'all, Kari here~ Back again with some more of my Bad Verse fics.  
> This fic was made for a tumblr RP verse with my friend Ash, but it can be read stand-alone. Anyways, I hope you enjoy since the tags didn't scare you off. Long story short: Ash and I are terrible people.

          The first time it happened was in the hospital, right after the initial attack while Ichigo was still in the ICU. They found him shivering.

          He’d disconnected himself from the monitors and IV’s to huddle up in the corner of the hospital room opposite the window, curled tightly in the wrapped up in the bedcovers. He was shivering and muttering quietly to himself as he dug his fingernails into his arms. Blood was dripping down his arms from the fingernail gouges and torn skin where he ripped out the IV tubes. In his panic, a jar of gumballs sitting on the bedside table, a present from Tatsuki, had been knocked over covering the floor in brightly colored candy spheres.

          When they came in, he jumped and stared at them as if he didn't know who they were, scrabbling backwards as if to press himself further into the wall. It wasn't until Isshin knelt down in front of him and carefully pressed a warm hand against his shoulder did the boy finally calm down. The blind panic cleared from his eyes and his whole body slumped in relief. 

          He allowed them to guide him out of the corner and back onto the bed, but he kept the blankets clutched tightly to himself, claiming to be cold. A nurse was sent out to get new coverings for the bed along with a few extra blankets as they had Ichigo sit on the bed so they could examine his wounds. 

          Arms extended from within the blankets Ichigo watched as his father and Ryuken Ishida each took hold of an arm and began to patch up the bleeding gouges. When they were done, they insisted on checking on his other wounds, to make sure he didn’t reopen them in his panic. But that meant removing the blankets which Ichigo was hesitant to do. 

          “He… h-he’s not near here… right?” the question was spoken softly in the most timid voice most had ever heard come from the orange haired boy’s mouth. Even Isshin hadn’t heard such a tone come from his son in years, not since before Masaki died and it brought forth such an ache in his chest. How that...  _ being  _ had earned such an intense degree of trust and  _ love  _ from his son, all while  _ pretending  _ to return his affections no less, to leave the boy so deeply wounded and genuinely afraid of his return, Isshin would never know or understand, but it made him ache for his son. Seeing Ichigo so… so broken, it was nearly more than he could bear sometimes. But it wasn’t his place to need consolance right now, no he needed to be strong for his son. He sat next to him on the bed, placing a steadying hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “No Ichigo, he’s not.”

          There wasn’t even the faintest trace of the hollow’s power for miles around, Ichigo was safe for the moment. 

 

          The teen nodded, slowly allowing the blankets to fall from his shoulders. He was okay. He was okay.  _ He  _ wasn’t nearby. Still, Ichigo couldn’t help the near violent tremble to wrack his body as the cold air danced over his uncovered form, the hospital gown doing little to keep him warm. Still, even that measly protection was stripped away from him once Ryuken undid the ties so he could examine the stitches over his abdomen. 

          The gown was slid off his arms to reveal  bandages beginning to spot with blood. Some of the stitches were torn. Ryuken sighed. Chilled hands made contact with his bare skin, intending to help him lay down to make the exam easier for both parties. Ichigo could see it was Ryuken, he was expecting the touch, he was prepared for it, but he still flinched at the cold as he was lowered onto the hospital bed. Isshin looked over at his son in concern, glancing meaningfully at his fellow doctor. Ryuken merely shrugged as he began his work, taking a pair of  scissors to cut away the bandages. 

          “Ichigo.” he said, it sounded as if he were forcing his voice to be even and steady. “What happened?”

          The boy looked up at his father, a look of confusion on his face. The question was simple enough but there was an odd inflection to his tone that Ichigo not discern the meaning of.  “I...I ah…” He gasped as Ryuken slid the scissors under the bandages, the cold metal pressing against the warm skin making him go rigid. Knuckles beginning to go white as he gripped tightly onto the sheets until the scissors finished their task and were removed.

          “What  _ happened _ , Ichigo? What made you get out of bed and  _ what  _ is causing all of… all of  _ this _ ?” he made a hand gesture, sweeping up and down across Ichigo’s torso in reference to his current behavior. “Did he… Did he  _ do  _ something to you?”

          This time, Ichigo caught the meaning. “No dad… it wasn’t… we… I didn’t want to, he  _ did _ , but I didn’t. We… we tried a couple times, but… I wasn’t… ready, so he… he didn’t push it…” he mumbled softly. He felt almost ashamed of speaking so sweetly of the one who did this to him, but… he couldn’t help it because while they were ‘together’ he  _ was  _ sweet. He never pushed him, never intentionally made him feel uncomfortable, he respected his boundaries, he made it seem like he actually  _ cared _ . “I just… I was cold. The AC… I was sleeping and… it felt cold against my arm suddenly and… I… I freaked out because I thought… it felt like  _ him _ . He was cold, he was always so cold, so I thought… But I couldn’t  _ see  _ him… I can barely see anymore so…” 

 

          “You thought he might be here so you were trying to protect your back. The gumballs… you did that on purpose in case he was here, you could see if he was coming at you. The noise of the spill and the ICU monitor going off would alert someone that something was wrong.” Isshin concluded, to which Ichigo nodded. Isshin was both impressed by his son’s quick thinking and saddened his words. 

          That being… he knew just how to manipulate Ichigo. Just what boundaries he could and couldn’t push to get Ichigo to trust him. He would call it genius if it wasn’t so cruel. So cleverly cruel that it left Ichigo still speaking so fondly of him even after the betrayal, even when he just nearly had a panic attack over the mere possibility of the being’s presence. But, then again, Ichigo was still somewhat in a state of shock… it would pass… this feeling of fondness would eventually pass as Ichigo came to terms with the reality of what that hollow had done to him, as would the effects of the trauma. The nightmares and panic attacks and paranoia and skittish nature would eventually fade, albeit much more slowly than the fondness. That was what Isshin hoped at least.  

          Sighing once more, the former Shinigami sat on his son's bedside, running his fingers though bright orange hair, noting how he winced slightly at the touch, but otherwise said nothing. The elder Kurosaki sighed, unsure what more he could do because he wasn’t used to this. Comforting their son had always been Masaki’s forte and Ichigo had never really seemed to need nor want much comfort after her death, so Isshin never had to step up to that. Despite this, Isshin knew Ichigo had to be exhausted.  Considering everything the teen had gone through in the past 48 hours with such little sleep, the least he could do was offer his son a little comfort. As it was, he could see the teen struggling to keep his eyes open. 

          By the time the nurse charged with bringing new blankets for the bed returned, Ryuken was just about finished with the stitches. Once he was done, the two doctors helped Ichigo off the bed for the nurse to strip and redress it with fresh linens. When that was done, she set a stack of extra blankets on a chair and made her leave as they settled the teen back down for more rest, Ryuken reconnected him to the ICU monitor and IV. injecting a mild sedative to help him stay asleep once he saw Ichigo wasn’t looking. Meanwhile,  Isshin tucked the extra blankets around the teen’s form to ensure the draft of the air conditioning wouldn't alarm him again. 

          “Sorry… sorry for causing so much trouble… ” Ichigo mumbled softly, his voice already heavy with sleep as the sedative hit his bloodstream. 

          “It’s not any trouble Ichigo, and none of this is your fault. Now, just get some rest.” 

          Ichigo looked up at his father, the look in his eyes clearly expressing how little he believed that statement. His eyes held pain and betrayal and guilt, always so much guilt. Yet, before he could speak another word, a hand brushed gently through his hair. 

          “Sleep Ichigo.” Isshin’s voice left no room for argument. He simply stood there, calloused fingers stroking through orange locks until his son’s eyes finally slid closed and his breathing evened out in sleep. 


	2. 3 Weeks Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more this goes on, the more he unravels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, so yeah, there's light mention of some cannibalism in this chapter just fyi. Yes, cannibalism. Hollows are cannibals. Anyways, enjoy.

The next time was after he was discharged from the ICU after the second attack and his human friends came to visit him.

Inoue brought bread from the bakery she worked at for the four of them to share, Chad picked up the latest volume of Ichigo’s favorite manga, and Uryu had the makeup school work Ichigo missed from his time ‘out’. Just a normal visit to the Kurosaki household really.

The four of them talked just as they normally would, though any mention of the word ‘hollow’ was carefully avoided. Bread was passed around, they smiled and laughed, and squabbled over their favorite rolls. No one treated Ichigo as if he were fragile or any different than before, much to Ichigo’s delight for all he wanted was to pretend that none of _this_ had ever happened. The only hint that anything was different than before was Uryu snatching a chocolate donut out of Ichigo’s hand since both grease and chocolate were not in the dietary allotment of his newly repaired stomach.

Everything was fine.

But then someone made Ichigo laugh just a little bit too hard. He reached out to grab a glass of water. The laughter was quickly cut off by a harsh hacking cough that had him bent over and struggling to breathe. For an instant everyone stopped as they took in the sight of their friend. Then there was a burst of activity.

Someone had their hand on his back and was rubbing gentle circles to try and help. Distantly he could hear someone else running out of the room, for what though, he did not know? To get his dad maybe? He didn’t know. But the circles were helping. He was able to draw in a gasp, then another as the coughs began to settle down.

Footsteps returned as he sat there, head bowed and panting as he tried his best to fight off another round of coughs. “Here, Ichigo, water.” That was Ishida. He sounded strained.

Ichigo reached out gratefully for the proffered drink only to recoil the moment his fingers touched the surface of the bottle. It was _icy_ \---

 

_Chilled fingers grasped his own, entwining with them so they held hands. A soft smile. A charming smile. Ichigo's_ favorite _of all Shiro's smiles. The grip of the hand holding his own tightened harshly, yanking him forward into frozen arms that enclosed him like a vice, choking the air out of his lungs. Icy lips pressed a soft kiss to neck before those sweet lips parted to reveal sharp teeth which bit savagely into his flesh._

_Skin and muscle and sinew broke easily beneath those teeth, allowing them to rend his very flesh from his bones. They tore through him with easy and though he wanted to scream in agony, he couldn’t make a sound._

 

_He couldn’t call out._

_He couldn’t scream._

_He couldn’t even breathe---_

He couldn’t breathe!

 

Pained tears spilled down his face as Ichigo struggled to draw air into his lungs. Blunt fingernails scraped harshly against his neck as he desperately tried to pull away that which obstructed his breath. His friends were in a panic. Chad was gone, off to fetch Isshin as Ishida had over exerted himself in just trying to get Ichigo some water. Inoue was there, looking so unsure as what to do for whatever was happening to ichigo--- there was no physical cause, it was not something her powers could fix.

Nothing could ever fix this, could it?

Even as her gentle hands continued to rub circles on his back, even as he felt Ishida pry his own hands away from the mess they were making of his neck, even as he saw Chad return with his father to try to help, he struggled to keep a grip on reality. Why? Why was it so hard to disconnect from images he _knew_ weren’t real?

_He hated it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please review~


	3. 2 Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More panic attacks? More panic attacks.

After it happened in public, Ichigo wanted to curl up in a hole and die.

Ever since the betrayal, he hadn't been able to sleep well, even with the help of a sleeping aide, but the night before had been the worst. After three consecutive nightmares, the boy had given up on sleep altogether. Instead he worked on the weeks of missed school work and homework until the sun rose and he could hear the sounds of his family waking up and getting ready for the day. Until it was time for him to get ready to go back to school for the first time since…  _ him _ . 

Despite the lack of sleep, he was wide awake through all his morning classes. Teachers greeted his return with varying shades of welcome and most were very surprised to see that he had three week’s worth of work done and ready to turn in. He was even caught up on enough material that he could keep up with the lesson and answer a few of the teacher’s questions. After lunch however, he lost some of that momentum. The exhaustion was catching up to him and the dull drone of the teacher's voice wasn’t helping matters. Before he knew it, Ichigo had begun drifting off. 

 

He wasn't sleeping very long, just a light doze for the latter part of the lesson  but it appeared the teacher wasn't overly pleased. “Kurosaki-san!” she snapped shrilly from her desk. “Kurosaki!”

He didn't respond. Not even when she threw chalk at him. So she did what any reasonable teacher would do. She strode away from her podium and down the aisles of desks to loom over his own. “Kurosaki-san wake up!”

All the teacher did was touch his arm. Probably to shake it and wake him up for dozing off in class. She only touched him, but with the way he reacted one would think she stabbed him. 

Her hands were freezing from spendingp all day standing beneath the air vents. The instant he registered the chilled fingers against his arm, he jolted awake, practically throwing himself out of his seat to get away from the touch. He scrabbled backwards until his back hit the wall while wild unfocused eyes scanned frantically across the room. 

At the back of his mind, he knew Shiro wasn't there. The crushing weight of his spiritual pressure was nowhere to be found. At the back of his mind, he could hear a few people laughing. They didn't know the reason for his panic, they just thought he was being stupid. At the back of his mind, he noticed the teacher was speaking. She was confused, the only explanation she'd received for his absence from his father was that he'd had a bad lung infection that required him to be hospitalized for a short while. At the back of his mind, he recognized that Chad was at his side. His friend was trying to calm him down. Trying to diffuse the raw terror in his mind. 

He knew this.

That hardly helped. 

In the forefront of his focus there was only cold. Cold that gripped his heart with panic and made his throat close up in fear. Ghosts of icy fingers slithering up his arms, across his back and chest, around his neck. Soft kisses on his cheeks trailing down to his neck and collarbone that morphed into harsh bites meant to rend the flesh from his body. 

It hurt. 

The memory hurt. 

The betrayal hurt. 

The way it made blind terror throw his every rational thought out the window hurt. 

But then there were warm arms pulling him close to an even warmer chest and the terror faded slightly. Chad. He was saying something Ichigo couldn't understand, but his voice was low and soothing. It helped him to focus on reality and settle the rapid beat of his heart. 

Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum...

Ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum-ba-bum…

Ba bum… ba bum… ba bum… ba bum...

“...go… chigo… Ichigo…”

Blinking rapidly, he found himself to be wrapped in his friend's warm embrace on the side of the classroom. The teacher was standing before them, talking on the cell phone rapidly. Was she calling the school nurse? He classmates were standing and staring and whispering amongst themselves. Of course. Nothing could stop the gossip from spreading.  _ Dammit _ . 

“Ichigo… He's not here. You're fine. You're fine, okay?”

Ichigo nodded, allowing his head to remain resting on the other's chest. His heart ached. He was still panting. 

“Sado, is Kurosaki okay? I've called his home. His father is coming to pick him up.”

Chad looked down at Ichigo. “You should go home.”

He shook his head. He didn't want to go home. He was fine… or at least as fine as he was every going to get any time soon. Going home just meant it would take him longer to get his life back to normal. Going home meant giving in to Shiro's games. Giving in to his boyfri— hollow’s desire to destroy his life in its entirety. 

Chad tilted his head. “You need to rest.”

Ichigo frowned. “I… can't. Can't let him… have his way.”

“You won't.

Ichigo moved to speak, to protest, to insist that he was perfectly capable of finishing off his first school day back. Yet before he could get out a word, Tatsuki was there to cut him off. When had she gotten there? Had she been standing behind Chad the entire time? 

She walked around Chad to squat in down in front of him. “Go home. C’mon Ichigo. You made it most of the day. There's no shame in not being able to finish it this time. Try again tomorrow, Ichi.”

His heart clenched. She hadn’t… she hadn’t called him that in years. How could she look at him like that…? How could she bear to look at him with a smile and call him by that old nickname when he was the reason her best friend was in the hospital with a broken arm being treated for a concussion. He didn’t deserve her kindness. Or her comfort. 

He nodded. 

He couldn’t argue with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please review!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please review~


End file.
